Date: Wed, 25 Jul 2001 15:29:08 -0700
From: Aaron . <loveactivist@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Specter" Ch. 4

I'd thank David for putting up with me, but he'll probably just delete it
like usual so instead I'll just say "THANK YOU ALL!" lol...naw David, you
know I love ya.  lol. :)

Thanks to my beautifull boyfriend Rorik. I love you baby!

HELP ME! I need help with ideas for this story mondo bad. If you have ANY
ideas, whatsoever, I wanna hear 'em. Please? Okay. Enjoy kiddies!

Disclaimer: If you wish to return HOME then simply click your heals
together my dear, and repeat after me: "There's no place like home...unless
it's AJ McLean's home." ;) None of this crap is real, obviously, I'm just
insane.


"Specter"

Aaron DeLorean


*Chapter Three*

______________________________

I wish I knew what you're really like
A touch so shy and fine
But the way you move with that guitar
Just gives me other signs
                                         --Heart
______________________________


	I woke up the next morning in bed without any recollection of
putting myself there. Nick was nowhere to be seen. I looked at the
answering machine only to see the number "7" blinking prominently back at
me. Fax's had come zooming out while I slept. I counted twelve. I groaned
and flung them down on the surface of the desk haphazardly. My body hurt,
especially my GSW. I popped two Vicodin from the bottle Kyle had given me,
and chased it down with a swig from the day-old glass of Smirnoff.
	Plunk. Down the hatch they went. Plop Plop, Fizz Fizz; Oh, what a
relief it is!
	Bottoms Up.
	The phone next to me rang and I glanced at the caller ID. It was my
mother. I rolled my eyes and for a split second considered not answering. I
instantly discarded the notion and knew that my mom would not stop calling
me until I picked up the phone or they pronounced me dead, whichever came
first.
	I hated answering phones.
	I lifted the vintage-rotary desk phone from its cradle.
	"Hi mom." I spoke into the receiver.
	"Oh, Akira," my mom began in heavily accented English, "Why you
want to know who call you before you answer? When I young girl in Japan WE
not know who call before WE answer." I rolled my eyes. Sometimes my mom
reminds me of Miss Swan. Only worse.
	"Mom you didn't even HAVE phones when you were a girl." I could
hear her snort on the other end.
	"So what's up mom?" I asked wearily.
	"What up?" She asked in shock, "I tell you 'What Up'! I open the
paper yesterday and what I see? I see YOU, my Akira, on front page! 'You
get shot', it say!" I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily, this was going to
be a long day.  A VERY long day.
	"Mom, I went to the hospital, I'm alright now." She began crying
and wailing in Japanese. "Mom please speak in English you know I'm not good
with Japanese." I pleaded for the millionth time since I had stopped trying
to grasp the concept of speaking Japanese in Junior High.
	"Oh, if only you become doctor like Kenichi. You make good doctor
Akira, you make lots of money, you marry nice Japanese girl and you give me
babies and everybody happy! Instead you make dresses for girls!" Right,
everyone would be happy; except for me, I thought to myself, grinding my
teeth.
	"You KNOW I'm gay mother. And I don't JUST make dresses; I make
men's clothes too." My mother acted as if she hadn't heard a word I had
said and began wailing again.
	"Oh, I go to Mahjong and ladies ask, 'What your son do?' and I say
'Akira make dresses for skinny girls that need food!' Oh, I not show my
face at Mahjong any more!"
	Which I knew was a lie. My mother couldn't keep from playing
Mahjong if Orlando was flattened by a hurricane. Mom and her little ladies
would set up a card table in the ruins and play all day long.
	After arguing about how I wasn't living properly and how I should
be a doctor like my brother, Kenichi, Mom FINALLY hung up.  She had to get
to Mahjong.


	I returned all of the phone calls that needed returning, and I
replied to all the faxes that needed replying to. I began to page through
the caller ID looking for Kyle's number so that I could return his call,
when all I saw was NO CALLS displayed like a billboard. That's
interesting. I didn't clear the call ID last night. I wonder who did? Then
it struck me. Nick and Kyle were jealous of each other, right? I turned and
glared at the wall separating my apartment from Nick's.
	That little ratfink cleared Kyle's number from the caller
ID. UGH. Men. I should have married a nice Japanese girl and become a
doctor.
	I shivered as I got a mental flash of myself sitting and playing
Mahjong with a short dark-haired woman. Blech. Then again, Kenichi wasn't
all that happy, was he?
	The doorbell rang. For Christ sake, it was 8:00 in the morning. I
shuffled my bare feet over to the door and slid back the dead bolt. It was
Kyle. My face immediately began smiling and I couldn't get it to stop.
	"Whoa, dude, what are you doing here?" Kyle laughed,
	'Well, I thought you might like some breakfast on your first day
home from the hospital." My face began smiling broader, and then my eyes
decided they'd get into the act too. Damn.
	At that moment Nick opened his door and stepped out into the hall
to retrieve the morning paper. He caught site of Kyle and they glared at
each other.  I swear I saw Nick kicking up dirt with his left leg and
snorting. Men. I swear.
	"Sure," I said just to spite Nick, "Come on in Kyle!"
	Nick huffed and slammed his door. I cackled evilly to myself.


	Kyle was wearing a pair of tight-but-not-tacky-tight jeans and a
soft black silk shirt. He looked cold but I guess that's what the leather
bomber jacket was for. His nipples were hard through the shirt. I shivered
as I thought about Kyle's nipples.
	Kyle had Chinese take-out in his hands. I grabbed the Chinese and
immediately began shoveling it into my mouth ravenously. Kyle laughed,
	"Well good morning to you too, Akira." I chewed and swallowed and
then replied,
	"I was going to return your call but SOMEBODY cleared my call ID."
	"That's okay Akira."
	Kyle's gaze swept my apartment. "Nice place you got here. Sparse,
but it's got potential." I nodded,
	"If only I actually had that green stuff they call money." Kyle
looked at the overturned Wega and then looked back at me, raising an
eyebrow,
	"So who won?" He asked. I grinned wryly,
	"The TV."


TO BE CONTINUED

(www.aarondelorean.com)